Chase the Fiction Home
by MandereLee
Summary: A set of short stories and drabbles for Eugenides and Attolia.
1. Chapter 1

AN: This was supposed to be a drabble, but I guess I was inspired enough to write 3 whole pages of it. The prompt was: "Shouldn't you be with him/her?"

Disclaimer: The Queen's Thief Series is written by Megan Whalen Turner. The title for this collection is from Up Dharma Down's "Feelings."

* * *

After Attolis had completely healed from the botched assassination attempt that summer, a contingent of Attolians climbed up the cooling slopes of the mountains to visit their neighbouring country of Eddis. It was the first time that Attolia would stay in Eddis since she had been required to witness the destruction of Hamiathes's Gift. So much had happened since.

Attolia knew it would be different, and though she brought her mask everywhere she went, she prepared the stoniest and most durable in her trip. No heart was worn on her sleeve, nor her coat, none even in her innermost slip. She steeled herself like the mountain she climbed.

Three years before, things had been easy enough between the two countries that the court of Eddis mostly harboured only amusement at Attolia's inadequacy in capturing the band of thieves who traipsed through her nation to steal something she had no knowledge of. They had not laughed in front of her, but she knew they did so behind the hands covering their mouths, whispered in the hallways after she passed by. Relius had told her.

Now there were no smiles, even just to mock. Upon their arrival, the court of Eddis was enveloped in a palpable tension, like a hound ready to attack. She walked through the palace, Eugenides by her side, attendants tailing her and guards surrounding her, none of whom could stop the piercing, chilly gazes of the Eddisian courtiers.

The Queen of Eddis was magnanimous as always, sparing her a big smile and warm welcome as they were ushered into their temporary apartments. She and Attolis rested for a while in their separate chambers before court dinner was announced, and they began making their way to the large dining hall.

On the way there, Attolia rounded a corner to find her husband surrounded by overzealous children and toddlers, his attendants and guard reluctantly standing by as if they did not know whether these little people were dangerous.

"I miss you so much!" one of the smaller ones clung to Eugenides, knuckles white with the effort of maintaining his strangling chokehold. There were tears streaming down his chubby cheeks.

Eugenides laughed. "But I remember quite distinctly when you said you hated me!"

"I miss hating you," came the squeaky answer, and the rest of the children piped up to agree wholeheartedly.

Despite their confessions, Attolia could tell hate was not what these little ones felt for their uncle or elder cousin or whatever relation Eugenides was to them. From the way they reached for him, the yearning and fondness were evident. Attolia felt tenderness at his reception and a bittersweet ache that he'd traded all this for her.

Eugenides saw her approaching. He smiled at the kids around him, and said, "Most of you haven't met my wife yet, have you?" The children watched her as she moved towards them, their smiles ebbing. "Say hello to the Queen of Attolia, you guys," Eugenides prodded. There was a smattering of soft and shy 'hellos,' and then there was an awkward stretch of silence after Attolia greeted them. A very indiscreet throat-clearing came from somewhere beyond the crowd, and Attolia saw that the children's guardians were standing nearby. They nodded slightly at her, only enough to show sign of respect, then collected the children, who would not be attending the court dinner.

Eugenides was the epitome of a gentleman as they made their way to the hall, never once mentioning the situation.

Attolia's time thereafter reminded her of the period when they were writing up the treaty and preparing for the wedding. Eddis was very kind to her; Attolia supposed she had a reputation to keep up after all. While the rest of Eddis's court tried to pretend that Attolis did not come with his wife unless they were in political meetings, Eddis invited her to afternoon talks with pastries, showed her the prominent shops around the city, and accompanied her to walks in the garden. The weather being in the strange phase between autumn and winter, there were no longer any blooms in the garden, but the browning shrubberies were still cut and arranged in a pleasing aesthetic, and the pool still displayed crisp reflections. She and Eddis talked about the changing weather, the changing fashions, non-titillating rumours from each others' court. Attolia did not bring up her war with Sounis and the implication for the young Sounis heir; Eddis did not bring up the assassination attempt.

It was through her friendly chats with Eddis that Attolia came to know the assortment of relatives that vied for Eugenides's attention, trying to take advantage of their short visit to have some family time with him. She learned which nieces and nephews belonged to which of his sisters and brothers; she learned about which of his uncles and aunts held important offices, which cousins bullied him as a child and which ones he got along with.

"And now he's king, and they're bowing to him," Eddis chuckled.

Eddis even pointed out a lovely young lady with whom Eddis had planned to marry Eugenides. "I don't think she was his type," she muttered in a conspiratorial whisper, as if she was sharing with Attolia an inside joke. If she was, Attolia did not get it.

Attolia watched Agape sometimes at court dinners or when they passed by the hallways. She really was beautiful, with a pleasant disposition and fresh sense of humour. Attolia tried to imagine being a young eighteen-year-old boy with one hand, and tried to come up with a list of reasons why she shouldn't marry Aagpe. The list was very short, none of the things that came up quite convincing. But then again, Attolia supposed she could hardly don the mind of one of the most inscrutable, incomprehensible people she'd known.

When Eddis did not have time to babysit her, Attolia was left to her own devices. No other invitations came for chats or tea or walks in the garden from any of the other courtiers. She spent her time in her chambers, comforted by the simple presence of her attendants, knowing the entire time that self-pity was not a luxury queens like her could afford.

One afternoon, Attolia watched from her windows a haphazard group of people – from a band of rough-and-tough boys and girls to a couple of elderly – engaged in a vigorous game of ball. She could even spot Eddis' wild, curly hair among them. She did not know what game it was, but tried to decipher the rules as she watched them play in the field beyond the outer courtyard that lined her side of the palace. She wondered if Eugenides was one of them, but from the distance she could not see if any of the young men was wearing a hook or a false hand. She was a little worried that he might be out and about without a guard in sight, but then she remember that they were not in the Attolian court.

Thus she was surprised when the doors to her chamber opened and her attendants showed in her husband.

"Why aren't you with them?" she asked, nodding towards the field.

He paused, then made an obvious show of eyeing her. "Why aren't _you_ with them?"

She gave him a flat look. _Her_ play ball? As if she could sustain a run for fifteen minutes? As if she had any clothes that was remotely even suitable for frolicking in the grass? As if her weak ankles and brittle joints could let her kick a ball that far?

He snickered and jumped on her bed. He kept jumping and then punctuated it by doing a mid-air back-flip to land on the mattress with his head on her pillows. She was about to admonish him then realized that this was his home, and he was already burdened by the kingly duties demanded of him in her own court that perhaps she should be a little lax with him this time. Attolia knew, of all people, what it was like to never have a moment's respite.

"What is this?" he asked, looking at her. "I just jumped on your bed with my dirty socks and somersaulted onto your mattress, and I get no word from you? I could have broken my neck!" he gasped.

"It is only Eddis's servants you've troubled as they are the ones who would change the sheets."

"You know," he turned to face her, fiddling with the fringes on her pillows. "Things are all fine and dandy just at the beginning because they miss me. You saw the hugs and the kisses, but you were never here for the beatings and the shouting matches."

Attolia knew what he was trying to do. He wanted her to feel better about having taken him from his home.

"And you know," he continued. " _I_ came up with the idea to marry you, remember?"

"Eddis told me you didn't think about being king." He could not have foreseen the consequences: the loneliness, the homesickness, the isolation. "Eugenides, if all those years I had the opportunity to relieve myself of the harshness of my court even for just a moment, I would have treasured it beyond life itself. Go to your family. You will miss them again when we go back."

"All right," he said, rising from the bed. "But I want you to come with me."

She shook her head. "You know it won't be the same." She thought about the kids whose laughter she snuffed when Eugenides had introduced her.

He looked like he was about to argue, but she just added, "I'm not ready."

He peered out of the window, observing the merry players for a long time, before nodding. He gave her a small smile before he left. After a while, Attolia saw him exit the palace, jogging across the courtyard towards the field.

* * *

AN: Please feel free to give me more prompts for Gerene!


	2. Chapter 2

AN: This is my entry for the Hamiathes's Gift 2017. The prompt was: "Irene has a fun day. Everything goes well for her and she gets to genuinely enjoy herself. Eugenides doesn't trick her about anything, but maybe she plays a little trick on him."

* * *

 _The kingdom of Attolia celebrated an annual holiday termed as The Statutory Merrymaking in place of the Queen of Attolia's birthday because nobody knew when she was born._

 _Like any sensible country loyal to its sovereign, Attolia had a tradition of observing its rulers' day of birth. However in the first year of her reign, the Queen of Attolia had faced a tremendous assortment of political shenanigans that celebration had been far from her mind. Things had remained rather bleak in her second year. By the time the third had rolled around, Attolia had felt it quite odd to reinstate the traditional holiday. Relius had urged her to do it anyway to further cement her position as rightful queen, and she would have agreed with him had it not been for the diminishing size of their treasury. There had been a drought in the southern part of the country as well, and when several of her barons heard talk that she might declare a national holiday in her name, whispers of greed and corruption echoed after her for weeks._

 _And so, to placate everyone – the people who wanted a holiday, Relius who wanted her to display some eminence, and the barons who would mock her for it – Attolia established The Statutory Merrymaking on a random summer day._

 _Her own birthday – known to very few in the first place – slowly slipped from people's memories as the years passed, those she trusted dwindled, relatives and close acquaintances passed or moved away, and nobody anymore dared to ask._

-o-

Irene woke up to the crisp chill of the first autumn winds, the sheer golden drapes on her window dancing in the early morning light. Not too long ago, she would have loathed having her windows in any state other than tightly closed and perhaps even bolted. The fact that they were not and no longer needed to be reminded her of the body lying next to her.

Sleepily, she looked at her king, his face a rare image of calm and docility. She did not get many chances to see him like this. She leaned over a little and lifted his nightshirt to his waist to inspect the wound he'd obtained in the assassination attempt many weeks ago. The wound was shallower now and the flesh around it was no longer so swollen, but when her king exercised his stubborn streak and went gallivanting who knew where, sometimes the skin still split and bled.

It looked okay for now. He must have heeded her unsubtle warning these past few days for once. Satisfied, she patted his shirt back down. She was about to return to her pillow when she found Eugenides observing her, his sleepy eyes half-open with a devilish glint, his lips curled in a saucy smile.

"By all means, please enjoy yourself," he whispered.

She resisted the warmth that threatened to redden her cheeks. She turned away from him, muttering, "I'm surprised you stayed until past dawn this time." He never had before. She suspected it was because he wanted to see the sunrise from the view his own windows afforded him.

He shrugged. "I do like to change things up from time to time."

"Well I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

He stared at her, no doubt waiting for a cutting remark or a morbid joke foretelling bodily harm, but she had none in her mind. It was too early in the morning yet, and Irene had just realized what day it was.

She looked at the curtains again, the upcoming scheduled events running through her mind. There would be breakfast with her king, just like usual. Afterwards was a meeting with several of her ministers and barons to discuss the war with Sounis. Lunch came after, a private one thankfully, and in the afternoon she would hold an audience to some supplicants. There would be court dinner, and then everyone would be free to retire to their own business.

Today was a very typical day.

"I think," Eugenides said beside her. "I think it would be a good day."

She nodded, hoping he was right. A good day was when her most bitter enemy was merely her memories.

-o-

 _When Attolia ascended the throne, the scribes who memorialized the event in history never spoke of her time as a minor princess. They all began the same way: she had been the second child of Attolis, had become more prominent after her brother's death, then had made herself queen after her father's. Most of the details revolved around the murder of her husband and the subsequent steps she took to keep the throne firmly under her grip. Never had anyone probed the shadows for her past, nor had anyone really cared by that point._

 _But just like any normal human being, the Shadow Princess had been born much the same way as any other. Irene came into the world screaming, though with not much kicking, subdued only by the tender touch of her mother, who had perished two days later from blood loss. Irene's nurse told her that after hearing the baby was a girl, her father had taken one look at her, nodded his head, and had not visited the nursery again._

 _Her nurse told her she had been an unremarkable baby, neither prone to tantrums nor to exuberant giggles. The nurse loved that about her, because Irene could be set in a crib while her nurse attended to other things without a lot of distraction._

-o-

The audience with the supplicants ended much earlier than Irene estimated. They usually limited the queue to around fifty each afternoon; despite that, oftentimes there would still be people left unable to make their petitions. Remarkably, Attolia was able to get through all fifty that afternoon with time to spare. None had asked for something time-consuming to resolve. Most wanted to settle simple debts or argued about property borders, things that Attolia could find a solution to after asking only several questions. Her king did not even need to speak up about anything.

He was not as studiously reticent as he had been before. Sometimes he would even pipe up a decent answer without anyone prodding him. But mostly he left her to her own devices.

After Dite's banishment, Sejanus's imprisonment, and the showdown with the Guard, the court tiptoed around him almost as much as they did around her. As far as she knew, most of them now believed that he was a master swordsman. However, whatever wiles they attributed to him only went as far as saying he was clever enough to choose her side. They still did not believe he was sly enough on his own to manage her unruly court himself.

But Irene, out of all people, knew how incorrigible the Attolian court could be when it came to their attachments. The fact that their opinions changed at all within less than a year of him being king was still impressive to her.

Attolia and her king walked the halls to return to their apartments. Around them were the assortment of attendants and guards that accompanied them everywhere.

"What are you planning to do before dinner?" Eugenides asked her.

She shrugged. "There are plenty of things for me to look into." She had yet to read the stack of paperwork on her desk. She also wanted to think more about the increasing agitation on the northern borders. And she was not going to lie to herself: a nap sounded delicious right about now.

"Want to tackle the deep end?" Eugenides suggested. Attolia almost slowed her walking.

"Now?" she asked. "Do we have time for something like that?"

"We have over an hour!" Eugenides countered. "Trust me, you'll pick it up in fifteen minutes."

She didn't believe him, but they detoured from their path to the apartments and headed down to the lowest level of the palace. Behind a set of large, heavy oak doors was a wide private bath, the pool glittering with clear waters that reflected the turquoise tiles beneath.

A month ago, Irene had sheepishly asked her husband if he could teach her how to swim. He eagerly assented. In the small pockets of free time they could get since then, he began teaching her some very basic skills like how to hold her breath under water for a suitable amount of time or how to propel herself through the water with kicks and strokes. The entire time they remained on the shallower side of the pool.

They left the guards and Attolis's attendants at the entrance of the pool room. Some of Attolia's own attendants waited outside while a few helped them prepare. They were the older ones like Phresine, who were not shy about seeing their king in only his under garments. They helped both Irene and Eugenides out of their formal clothing, and when Gen was in nothing but his inner breaches, he jumped like a canon ball into the deep end of the pool, causing a huge splash of water to shoot up into the air.

He surfaced only a moment later to grin at her, and Irene had a sharp reprimand at the tip of her tongue but his genuine smile slowed her. An attendant tugged at the jewels in her hair, and another handed her a thin shift that would not hinder her limbs when she swam. His little deed was forgotten.

Only one of her attendants knew how to swim and was comfortable enough with both of them to attend them in the waters. Leda had taken off the outer layers of her dress as well, and she sat at the edge of the pool with her legs in the water. Her eyes were vigilant as Irene lowered herself in the shallow end.

The first time she dipped herself in the pool, Eugenides had asked her if she was afraid. With the windows high up on the walls catching the rays of sun, and the light bouncing off the surface of the water, Irene had been mesmerized enough not to fear anything. She had felt quite serene.

But Eugenides's lessons were not sugar coated. Even in the shallower end, where she knew that the chances of her drowning was almost zero, sometimes she still caught herself feeling afraid. It was in the moments when she was running out of breath but she knew it was not time to surface her head yet; or when the minutes stretched on and on and her muscles burned with being so taught, but Eugenides told her to do one more lap. She had wondered then about atrocious things like what if her muscles all cramped up and she did drown? What if she would never learn?

Still, when she performed well he would say so. And he would tap the places in her form that needed improvement – knees slightly crooked, ankles not pointed, arms flappy, chin not tucked in enough. He would tell her to rest, and he'd show her some nice tricks like doing headstands in the water or somersaults. He was as graceful underwater as he was above it, and she envied him a little.

"I could teach you those too!" he had offered, but she turned him down.

"No thank you," she had said. "I just want to survive a shipwreck."

Now, Eugenides glided toward her to the edge of the shallow floor. "Come here," he said.

"Are we going to the deep part now?" she asked. "I don't know how to tread yet."

"That's why we're going there," he answered.

"Teach me to tread first."

"It would be hard to do in the shallow end," he said. "You might hurt your feet if you accidentally bang them on the tiles. No, the only way to learn to tread is to learn it in the deep end."

"But–"

He enclosed her wrist with his hand and pulled her. In that second, she crossed the threshold where the pool floor dropped several feet. In her panic, she clung to Eugenides with both sets of limbs, pushing against his buoyancy to lift herself as high above the water surface as possible. His head dipped below, and he had to kick hard to resurface. She almost felt sorry for him if her heart wasn't gripped by terror for herself. In any case, he came up laughing.

"It's okay!" he said. "I got you."

He snaked his handless arm around her waist and used the other arm to move them to the middle of the deep section, where he knew she would not be able to grasp for the edges and pull herself to safety. He must have sensed her increased tension because he reassured her again. She heard a splash, and looked behind her to find Leda wading in the water toward them, just in case the king needed some extra help.

"All right," Eugenides began. "Floating is actually really easy."

She frowned at him.

He smiled and chuckled, "What I mean is that it's easy to _learn_. To be good at it, well, it's like any other skill. You just have to practice a lot and develop your muscles. The first thing you need to do is forget everything I've taught you in the shallow end."

"Um… why did you teach them to me then?"

"To get you comfortable in the water," he explained. "Everything you've learned will help you _move._ Treading is fine if you want to stay in place, but you can't possibly float forever. At some point, you might want to actually get on dry land, right?"

"Okay, so what do I do?"

"Forget about the straight legs and straight arms. _Especially_ forget about the tucked chin. When I release you, I want you to lift your chin up so that your face is always above water. I want you to run as fast as you can, kick as hard as you can, and I want you to sweep your hands back and forth across the surface. You get it?"

Irene got it, but she did not want to do it yet. She peered through the water again, and even at this depth, the water was so clear that she could see the tiled floor beneath, so so far below her.

"Hey," he whispered. "You're going to be fine. I will be just two paces away."

" _Two_?"

"That's really close!" he laughed. "I will be able to reach you with my arms. Look, you're not going to learn if you keep clinging to me."

She realized that she was. She straddled his waist like a baby, and her arms could smother him if she held on any tighter. She felt embarrassed and shocked and even a little bit ashamed, that the queen of Attolia could be so afraid of something not even sentient, and how that prompted her to be so physically needy and helpless. It was even more astonishing to her the amount of trust she burdened Eugenides with to keep her alive and comfortable, when months earlier she would have never even entertained the idea of delegating that responsibility to anyone but herself.

So when he asked if she was ready, she forced herself to be so.

He let go.

She clenched her eyes, moved her legs as fast she she could, running like he told her so. She lifted her chin and looked up at the ceiling, feeling the surface of the water creep up her neck, her chin and her ears, until all she could hear was the muffled sound of her heavy breathing. She resisted the urge to flap her arms like wings, and instead tried to scull the surface like Eugenides said.

She did not know how long that moment lasted; it felt very long and very short at the same time. She was hyperfocused and very much aware of her hyperfocus that she suspected it had not been very long at all. She was going to go under any second now. Keeping herself above water for only a couple of seconds was not bad at first try, right?

"Good job, Irene," she heard Eugenides say somewhere nearby.

Irene kept kicking, feeling the burn on her thighs, the tightness of her midsection. When she felt the waterline reach her cheeks she knew she was getting tired. A warmth pressed against her, and she found Eugenides hoisting her again against his hip.

"Good job," he repeated, a proud smile on his lips.

She allowed herself to relax, arms winding about his shoulders.

"How long did I last?" she asked, almost afraid to hear an answer less than five seconds.

"It was a minute."

"A minute?" She searched his face for a jest, but it wasn't there.

He laughed. "See, I told you it was easy."

She finally returned his smile. And for the next half hour they remained practicing, there was a warmth in her that was more than the effect of exertion.

-o-

 _As a minor princess, Irene did not get large feasts for her birthday, but she did receive some gifts from close family members and those who wanted to curry favour from her father. It was only when she became queen that that stopped, since most of her court already feared or disliked her. Thus as a teenager, she would pick a meal and say a small greeting to herself. 'Happy birthday,' she would think. Then she would eat, and that was that. When her birthdays fell on particularly lousy days, she would say instead, 'It may not be happy, but it's still your birthday, so there.'_

 _Eventually she forgot to say anything to herself at all, sometimes even forgetting the day until it already passed_.

-o-

Moving on land again felt strange after being so weightless in the water. After the dinner tables had been cleared and the hall readied for dancing, Irene did not think she would be so graceful on the dance floor. It had been hours after her swimming lessons and her limbs still felt heavy. Sometimes she would still feel the surge of water pressing against her.

Despite that, Irene allowed herself to be led down the dais, hand in hand with her king. The musicians began to play a mid-tempo song, and they got into position facing each other, one of her hands in his, the other on his shoulder. This close she could get a whiff of his perfume. She hadn't smelled that particular one on him before.

"Is that citrus?" she asked, as he led her into a gentle spin. It smelled mildly tangy, with floral accents and undertones of musk.

"Orange blossom, to be exact," he corrected her as they slowed for several beats. "It's new."

"I thought so," she said.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes."

She thought he was going to make some snarky joke about it, but he just smiled without pretension and spun her again. His scent lingered in the air the entire time they danced.

-o-

" _Happy birthday to me," Irene had thought that morning at breakfast with Eugenides._

-o-

Phresine was brushing her hair when Eugenides crept into her apartments that night. Nobody was surprised anymore when he suddenly showed up. If one of her attendants turned around to find him lounging in a chair that had been empty a moment before, they had learned to suppress their yelps and squeaks, and now merely welcomed him with exasperated huffs.

He paced behind her chair by the vanity, waiting until Phresine had braided her hair into a neat line down her back. When her attendant moved away, that was when he came close, and he embraced her tightly from behind. He gave her cheek a long, tender kiss. He often showed her affection when they were in her rooms, but this seemed a little different. She was about to ask him what was wrong, when out of his pocket he fished out a long, rectangular package wrapped in gold sheet and tied with silk ribbons.

"Happy birthday," he whispered in her ear.

She heard the mild gasps of her women behind her, but they seemed far away. "It's your birthday, Your Majesty?" she heard them asking, but all she could think about was the nice little gift in his hand. For a breathless moment it was all she could comprehend. She lifted her gaze and looked at him through the mirror.

"How did you know?"

He shrugged in a self-satisfied manner. "Oh, I know everything."

"Nobody knows my birthday," she said softly. Nobody wrote about it or spoke about it. It was almost as if she came out of the blue which, to the people who knew her only as queen, was probably as true as it could get.

She lifted the package from his palm and settled it on her vanity.

"Aren't you going to open it?" he asked, his chin resting on her shoulder, his lips soft and warm against her ear.

She did not want to. She wanted to keep it wrapped up and looking pretty for as long as possible; she wanted to keep the anticipation and mystery feeling new. She had not felt like this for so, so long. She could not remember a time someone gave her something out of a wish to make her happy, not as a bribe or for political gain or flattery or payment.

"Thank you," she forced the words out of her mouth, even though her throat felt tight.

She turned her head to look straight into his eyes, the events of the day flashing through her mind. She felt the small, solid pride of having learned how to tread in deep waters. His orange scent remained strong even now, and she remembered their dance. It was the same dance she had danced alone all those years ago, except this time she was surrounded by people who, if not completely trustworthy, had at least been in their best behaviour.

She shook her head. "Even the smooth meeting with the barons this morning? And the quick audience this afternoon? Was that all you?"

He gave a chortle as he sat beside her on the bench by the vanity. "Ah, no. You're giving me too much credit," he said, and she could tell he was being honest. "I was relieved too that your barons and ministers didn't give you a headache, and I think the short audience was a lucky break. If I knew the stars would align to actually give you a good day today, I wouldn't have given you so many gifts. But I prepared the perfume and the dance just in case something fouls your mood, and the swim was a momentary inspiration."

He paused, but then shook his head. "Actually, scratch that. I think I would _still_ give you as many gifts as I can, because you deserve them."

 _You are a treasure beyond price_ , he had told her before. Irene fingered the smooth gold sheet of the gift. She reached for the length of the ribbon, tugged the knot loose, and pulled the sheet away to reveal a heavy wooden case beneath. Holding her breath, she lifted the lid, and found inside a sparkling net of diamonds, linked by tiny silver chains and punctuated by small ruby stones.

It was such a stunning necklace, that Irene almost regretted that the first thing that came out of her mouth was, "Oh my king, did you steal this?"

He erupted in a violent bout of laughter.

She gulped, wondering if she had insulted him. It took him a while to gather himself.

" _Now_ you're not giving me enough credit," he said.

"I suppose you would think it's an honour, blessed by your god?"

"I'm not a thief anymore," he pointed out. "And I suppose you won't? Think it an honour, I mean."

Truthfully, Irene would be quite disappointed if the first gift she'd received in over a decade was stolen from someone else.

"I would politely order you to give it back," she answered. "But it doesn't mean I don't appreciate the thought."

He waved his hand to dismiss her concern. "Bought from a Ferrian jeweler with the taxes that one of your sneaky little barons had just started paying again."

She fingered the tightly woven silver links, the winking diamonds and the deep rubies.

"Do you like it?"

"I do." Then she asked again, "How did you know?"

"You really have no idea?" he shook his head as if surprised she could miss something so obvious. "Helen told me. You two grew up together."

Ah, Irene did not think of Eddis. Until recently the other queen did not concern herself with Attolia's personal matters. She was surprised Helen remembered at all.

"You were right," Irene admitted.

"About what?"

"That it would be a good day." She smiled at him, and they sat in companionable silence.

* * *

AN: Aaaah, okay, I had this idea and ran away with it. But as I neared the end, I realized how implausible it was that nobody knew of Attolia's birthday. Like, Relius would obviously know, and the only way nobody would celebrate it is if Attolia herself disregarded it forcefully. Yikes, obvious plot hole, but oh well. Let's say this is an AU, hehe.

Anyway, I hope you like this! I worry that it's not "fun" enough, but because I imagine Irene to be quite stoic, this is the most fun I think she can have.


	3. Chapter 3

Idle, She Sat

 _In the garden_

Thawing was not what Attolia expected it to be. She had assumed, naively as if she were once again a teenager who had hoped to rule with adoration, that perhaps love would cure the barrenness of her inner landscape.

And yet she knew love now, but the barrenness had given way to something more overwhelming: cold rolling waters of loneliness, deep trenches of self-loathing, thorny fields of guilt. And far, far beyond her, in the horizon she could see only if she squinted, were bright hills of joy. Everything was starker, hyperbolic, and sometimes she longed painfully for her drought again.

There were times she woke drowning in feelings she had not felt for a long time, on the verge of insanity because she did not know what to do with them.

-o-

 _After dinner_

She was fine. What other option could there be? You could not be queen and _not_ be fine at the same time, because that would not be fair. Not to her people, some who did back-breaking work just so they could feed their families; some who had lost those very same families to the wars she had waged; and many who succumbed to hunger pangs and mild illnesses, things that could never threaten her. How could she look at them and say, "I wasn't doing my duties because I was sad?"

That was if she was lucky enough to even _know_ what she was feeling. Most of the time, there were just no words.

So when her king brushed her cheek with his hand, and he asked her what was wrong, her mind screeched to a halt, grasping for vocabulary she had never needed before.

 _My king, my heart is heavy and I don't know how to tell you._

It wasn't fair to him either. How could she complain of a heavy heart to someone whose heart she had burdened so much?

So she told him, "Nothing. I'm fine." What other option could there be?

-o-

 _In the training yard_

One of the worst things was the contradiction.

Envy was familiar to her, so she should have recognized it when it dug its seedy clutches in her chest. But it had taken her a while to realize that was what she felt when she watched her king spar with two guards in the training yard. Agile and graceful, he dodged the wooden swords that came at him with no visible effort. Then with one quick thrust, he disarmed one of them, sending the wooden sword flying across the court.

It was difficult to miss the admiration that flashed in the guard's eyes, quickly eclipsing the surprise that had been there moments before. Somewhere on the other side of the court, she heard Teleus laugh with amusement and tease his man. Since challenging the Queen's Guard, Eugenides had been in better terms with its captain.

Four months. That was how long it had taken her king to subdue the resentment of dozens of men who had opposed him. And he had not spent a single coin in her treasury to do it. He had not threatened and bribed and punished.

 _You wanted him to be king_ , she reminded herself.

It was funny how emotions could defy the strongest of logic. That was why she disliked them so much. Still she could only marvel at how brightly her inadequacies shone now that she had a king.

 _You love him_ , she told herself.

Could people not envy those they loved?

 _You chose a good king_ , she consoled herself. _You should be happy. You should be proud._

Eugenides caught her eyes, and he beamed at her. She nodded in acknowledgement, but could not quite bring herself to smile back.

-o-

 _By the bed_

Now the worst thing was the circuitousness. The feelings about feelings. Sometimes feelings about those. It made her dizzy.

She was irritated by her own despondency. She feared her pride. She felt guilty about being happy. Ironically, she also felt guilty about being sad.

"Are you not going to sleep yet?" her king asked. He was already tucked under the sheets, which was a first. She usually went to sleep before him. As a matter of fact, she rarely ever saw him fall asleep. She would just go to bed alone, then wake up in the middle of the night to find him with her. This time however, a loophole in one of her military reforms kept her up, and she was trying to find a way to fix it.

"I will soon," she replied.

"I love you," he said, yawning and rolling to his side, away from the light of the candle on her table.

"I love you too," she said, but did not tell him how terrified she was of doing so.


End file.
